Brothers 2: Shattered
by KooriRoninheart
Summary: How much pain can one soul withstand before it shatters? And once it does, is there any way to put the shards back together? Follow up story to Brothers
1. Chapter 1

_Koori's Korner: Hello all, it's been awhile ... a long while. This is probably one of the darkest tale I've ever attempted, however my ratio for story vs. sex is about the same as in my other stories. I write stories that have sex in them, I don't write sex scenes with a bit story. I strongly suggest you read "Brothers" but think this can stand on its own regardless. As always thanks to my Sis for playing editor and sounding board. It's been a fun trip! ~ K  
_

_**WARNINGS:**__ It would almost be easier to list what you won't find … however throughout this story you will find, rape, slavery, role reversal/cross-dressing, erotic humiliation, mind games, piercing, slash/yaoi, F/M, death, gore … think that's enough spoilers for now on with the story!_

**_~Shattered~_**

_A decade has passed since we last saw Nathaniel and Foster Conway. The third war, nothing but a painful memory, like so many that called __Darrowmere Forest home, the Conways lost much when the plague came rolling over their fertile lands. Some things lost were more __valuable than others_

**Chapter One** – _Nathaniel Conway_

There is pain and then there is throbbing gut wrenching hurts so bad you wish you were dead but because of the agony you know you're not. Nathaniel Conway awoke to the later, for a long time through blurred eyesight he stared blankly at the blood splattered stone wall in front of him. His mind trying to grasp what had befallen since he broke camp this morning. Why had he returned to the cursed land of his birth? The forest wore its scars in the dying foliage, there would never again be golden fields of wheat, and the diseased animals, which prowled the woods, were the only signs of life.

His brother, Foster, that was why he had returned to Darrowmere Forest. More than once he had been told he would follow Foster to hell and back and that proved true in the most horrible of ways. He wanted to find a body, something his family could bury for closure. What he found … by the Light what he had found …

"You still breathing, faggot?"

Hard fingers grabbed his chin and jerked his face away from the wall and toward the man squatting next to him. The sudden movement made his world and stomach swirl and he let out a loud groan as he shut his eyes as he lifted his hand to his forehead. A hand which was roughly shoved away and as it landed on the cold stone ground, a heavy iron boot pressed on it, threatening to break his fingers if he lifted his arm.

"Very good," the man said looking down as Nathaniel blinked his eyes trying desperately to clear his vision. "You left his face untouched, go fetch a healer."

The pressure on his hand pushed down and he cried out as bones snapped, the other foot pressed down on his stomach as the man in armor left to do the other's bidding walking on the injured elf. Nathaniel tried to move his broken hand but the shoulder of that arm had been ripped out of its socket in the earlier torture and refused to obey him. Smooth finger touched his cheek and he flinched, he looked up at the bald man dressed in deep violet robes staring down at him. There were purple tattoos in the shape of a four point star covering both eyes, mark of the Cult of the Damned.

"So my little queer how did the family reunion go?" the man let out a dark laugh, "you should have seen your face light up when you saw his face, you truly thought he was here to save you … like always. Instead …" the man stood and gestured down at where Nathaniel laid broken in a blood splattered cell, his blood spilled by his brother, the same man he had come to find the corpse of and instead had found him an undead champion of the Lich King.

Nathaniel coughed and was rewarded with a mouthful of blood which poured out from his lips. "Fuck," the man mumbled, "don't you dare die on me … where the fuck is the healer."

"I'm here," a disembodied voice said.

Keeping his attention focused on the wall Nathaniel thought back to this morning once again, the surprise attack that ended with him overran by ghouls. He believed he was going to die, like so many had in the time before and during the Third War. At the last minute they had been called off by their keeper, the bald man, who now gloated over him. The expression on his attacker's face chilled him now as it did then, recognition followed by a look so malicious Nathaniel wanted to throw himself at the ghouls. Only the promise given to his brother those years ago had held him in check.

"Long time no see, faggot," the man had said, instantly letting Nathaniel into the terrible truth. The tormenter from his childhood, Vance Dixon lived and had sold what little soul he had to the Lich King. He had charged the man then but a spell was cast and his world became dark. He had awoken in the cell he was lying in. Vance was there and standing with him another dressed in dark armor with a large blade strapped to his back. A command had been given and the helm of the stranger removed to reveal a familiar face. Though marked with the torment of death, it was Foster, his brother. By the Light the joy he felt completely blocked out reason as he had struggled to his feet and went to embrace the man he believed dead. Elation that quickly turned to bewilderment; when the armor-covered gauntlet slammed into his stomach. The brutal attack went on for a long time as he begged for his brother to stop, eventually passing out and then cruelly be awoken so the torture could begin again.

Strange warmth crept through his body, it was different from any healing he had received before; it felt like a serpent slithering through him. It ached, causing him to shriek as bones were mended and lesion closed. Afterwards he lay where he was shivering his body and mind in shock from the cruelty undergone. There was the sound of the door behind him closing and a heavy lock sliding into place. "Will he live?" Vance asked.

"Of course, he will not die until you allow it, Deathspeaker Vance."

Nathaniel watched a tiny rivulet of blood, pool at the corner of the room. His mind screamed for him to get up; though no longer in physical pain his body refused to listen. Time passed, eventually the door behind him opened and heavy footfalls entered. Silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity.

"Go to lie there all day, brother?"

The almost friendly sounding words spoken in the rumbling voice from the man who had once been his brother startled him. He pushed himself up, his long blonde hair hung loose, matted with blood and grime. Brushing it back behind his slender ears he looked up at Foster.

The death knight held a tray in his hand and Nathaniel caught the whiff of savory meat, his stomach growled. The serving dish was offered and he reached for it; his hands shaking so badly it rattled the bowl and cup resting on top. To his surprise he found a thick stew of meat and potatoes.

"If you eat it quickly it will still be warm," Foster said as he leaned against the cell door.

"I never expected hell to be so cold," Nathaniel said as he took up the wooden spoon on the tray and began to eat. The tiny chamber he was in, was freezing, the warmth from the soup both in temperature and spices was a welcomed one. He cleaned his bowl quickly and was reaching for the glass of water when the first pang of uneasiness began. Alarmed he looked up at Foster, from his brother's finger tips ghastly colored smoke tentacles were snaking their way down and around him.

"Brother?!" he cried out alarmed as his stomach lurched.

Foster was there beside him, holding the dish he had just drained in one hand and grabbing Nathaniel's soiled hair in the other to hold it out of his way as he emptied his stomach of the stew back into bowl. After he finished vomiting, Nathaniel rubbed the back of his hand against his lips, the bitter taste of acid on his tongue. Looking over at the death knight, he shook his head confused.

Foster shoved the bowl of foulness at him and said, "Eat, it's a gift from the Lich King, you will not waste it."

Nathaniel could only stare at him in alarm, there was no way … he couldn't do this.

"Do you know the human body has 206 bones in it?" Foster said nonchalantly, "I'm guessing elves have about the same, shall we find out as I break them one by one? Or you could just eat the damn soup!"

Trembling he reached for the spoon that had fallen. "I love you, brother," he whispered as he took the first bite. His mind and body rejected what he was trying to force it to do. Gagging the spoonful ended back in the bowl. "I can't," he cried.

"Stand and give me your hand," Foster said coldly.

Clenching his fingers into a fist, Nathaniel slowly got to his feet. His brother remained leaning against the door to the cell. "Am I going to die here?" he asked.

"When Deathspeaker Vance orders it, yes," Foster said moving away from the wall and nonchalantly approaching him, holding out his hand.

"Is Vance really that important?" Nathaniel asked, taking a step back.

The eyes that glowed ghostly cobalt flashed. "You will address him properly. I will not let the likes of you disrespect Deathspeaker Vance!"

"We have the same star-kissed eyes now. I missed you, Brother," Nathaniel said, and with a shout he charged. He hadn't been able to defeat Foster in years and knew this was just as hopeless but he refused to stand like a lamb before the slaughterhouse.

His brother was still dressed in his plate armor, only his head was bare so that was Nathaniel's target. He could predict Foster's attacks as easily as his were blocked, they had done this dance hundreds of times, if he wanted to get through his brother's defenses he had to think of a new plan. Time to use the speed he was blessed with to his advantage; he ducked Foster's next attack and instead of putting distance between them placed his hands on the ground and spun his body around planting both feet firmly in the stomach of the other and pushed. The attack threw Foster off balance and he took a small step backwards. Extending his left leg Nathaniel kicked the death knight in the jaw hard enough he heard bone crunch.

There was a roar of anger as a cold gauntlet wrapped around his ankle before he could move away. He cried out in pain as bones were crushed and he was thrown harshly away, slamming into the wall. Before his head cleared Foster was on him, this assault was just as brutal as the first one, and this time his face was not spared. All his attack had done was infuriate his punisher; which had been the plan all along. If he could push the right buttons maybe Foster would forget his promises and at least free his soul from this hell. He was on the verge of passing out when cold water was splashed on his face and he was pulled callously into a sitting position. Foster forced his broken jaw apart and Nathaniel screamed again, as his brother dumped the foul-tasting contents of the bowl into his mouth. Then the hand clamped over his lips and nose until he had no choice but to swallow. The hand stayed as he gagged and he started to grow lightheaded from the lack of air. As darkness started creeping in the palm left; he gasped for breath as he was released to fall.

"I told you to leave his face unscathed!" Vance screeched from the doorway.

"The bitch had it coming," Foster said coolly as he collected the dishes and walked out the door. "I'll get the healer."

"No need," Nathaniel blinked at the ethereal being that floated into the cell. "Your new toy won't last long like this, Deathspeaker," the banshee said as her sickening heal spells started to painfully correct the damage done. Nathaniel's vocal cords were hoarse from screaming by the time she finished and he watched Vance's shoes through mostly closed eyes, when a second pair of armored feet appeared he let out a strangled cry and curled into a ball to protect himself the best he could.

"That will do, for today," Vance said haughtily.

"As you command, sir" Foster replied.

"Please visit your brother again tomorrow," Vance said as the door closed.

"As you command, sir"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **–_Deathspeaker Vance Dixon_

"Are you listening to me boy?"

Vance frowned and brought his full attention to the large lich hovering nearby. "You haven't used that tone with me in years, Master …" he started.

"Nor have I had cause," the lich once known as Kel'Thuzad of The Kirin Tor, now the Lord of Naxxramas. "Your fascination with your prisoner is both nauseating and delicious at the same time. Even now your eyes are watching the clock behind me, anticipating the next meeting between brothers. For weeks you've sic that death knight on his kin like you would a dog to a bone. Knowing you there is another plan in the works other than torturing an old foe."

"Perhaps," Vance said sitting up straighter, "but I won't bore you with such trivial matters. What brings you to Ebon Hold, my old master?"

"I need another lieutenant, Gilda recently transcended," Kel'Thuzad replied as he floated over to the fireplace in Vance's room. "Cold in here is it?"

"So you're looking for a Next in Line?" Vance tried to keep resentment out of his voice; he deserved the gift of undeath more than that whiney bitch Gilda had.

His old master laughed darkly, "Jealousy suits you well, feed off it. Soon you will join me in immortality, but not at this time. I need you to remain in your flawed state for a bit longer." The lich picked up a golden urn. "I see you still have daddy dearest ashes."

"Master assures me he will rise again when the time is right," Vance said defensively. "So you are returning to Naxxramas soon?"

"Yes," the ethereal being set the urn back on the mantle. "Any suggestions for my dilemma?"

"_Me,"_ Vance thought darkly, it was time for this meeting to end, and if he hurried he could still catch the last few minutes of Foster's torture. Though the past two days there been less crying from his victim it may be time for the next step. The sound of Nathaniel's choking sobs were music to his ears.

"I see I lost you to your desires," Kel'Thuzad with a chuckle. "Please have your head on straight the next time we hold an audience."

Vance felt his cheeks grow warm at the word 'desire'. "Lamar," he said briskly, "he is one of our top apothecaries; I think he would make a good lieutenant. He's quick on his feet and has a sharp mind."

The undead Lord nodded, "thank you for your council."

After seeing Kel'Thuzad to the door Vance forced himself to wait a few minutes before exiting and working his way to the dungeons of Ebon Hold. They were not known to hold prisoners for long, they usually found their way into the ranks of the scourge as death knights, members of the cult if worthy or ghoul fonder if found otherwise. The corner cell, that housed his prey, door opened and Foster walked out his dark armor splattered with blood. He motioned for the Death Knight to remain and got a curt nod as Foster stood at attention beside the cell. Ramona, the banshee healer, started floating into the cell. "As we discussed," he ordered following her inside.

The small room reeked, and the elf crumpled in the middle was the source of most of the odor. At his command there wasn't even the simplest means of comfort in the prison, no straw to sleep on, chamber pot, or fresh water to drink. The clothing Nathaniel had been wearing when taken had been shredded down to leggings that were barely holding together, chest and feet were bare. The elf let out a gargling sound, as froth and blood left his lips. The cheeks were damp with fallen tears and Vance found himself smiling. Kneeling onto the floor he carefully lifted Nathaniel's head and placed it in his lap.

"Gentle," he ordered, as he brushed the soiled hair away from the dirty but otherwise unblemished face, it had grown gaunt in captivity due to the lack of food.

"I don't do gentle," the banshee hissed.

"You will or your second death will be even more painful than you first, wench!" Vance growled.

Slowly the cuts on Nathaniel's flesh mended and faded, leaving behind only the blood spilled. Bones were straightened and repaired as Vance gently stroked Nathaniel's damp cheek. As the eye lids fluttered opened, the banshee faded from sight. There was the briefest moment of ecstasy as fear sparked in those deep blue eyes. Yes, he would almost be willing to give up his first death to awake to that trepidation every morning. His body reacted to his desires and he shifted himself slightly so the one resting on his lap wouldn't feel it. Curse this elf for making him like this; it was his fault his dreams were filled with the thought of those lush lips around his hardness.

He lost himself in the past, thinking back to that time in the cave, before that arrogant paladin had ruined everything. The first time this elf had submitted to him and opened his mind to unscrupulous desires. The elfin child had been so willing to please after the thrashing, anything to stop the pain … anything. Forcing his mind to focus on the present he looked down, the eyes had lost their fear and in its place was confusion.

"_Careful,"_ he reminded himself. "So, my pet," he asked soothingly, "have you thought more on my offer? I'll bathe you, feed you, clothe you, let you sleep beside my fire for warmth, protect you from harm … the only hurt you would ever experience would be at my hand as your training progresses. You're a smart pet, you'll learn quickly and with knowledge the sting of lessons will fade."

"At what cost?" Nathaniel sighed, his lips parting, tempting.

"You know the fee," Vance said, keeping his fingers lightly combing through the dirty blonde hair.

On cue the heavy footfalls of Foster walked in the door and the elf in his lap went rigid as the delicious fear returned in the deep blue eyes. "I'm afraid my time here is growing short, I need an answer now, my pet. Otherwise I'll try to remember to check on you again in a few days."

Nathaniel trembled as Foster bent down, with a cry the elf curled against Vance and he laid a hand over him shielding him from his brother. "Don't leave me," the elf whimpered and the Deathspeaker of the Lich King smiled.

"What is the cost, my pet?" he asked.

"Obedience," Nathaniel said softly.

"Total unquestionable submission," Vance corrected, "you are mine to do with as I desire and discard when I am done, but until then you have my protection, agreed?"

"Yes," Nathaniel whispered as he let out a sob.

"Yes, Master," Vance corrected. When the elf didn't reply he swatted him hard on the ass, the threadbare cover did little to cushion the blow. "Yes … Master," he said again.

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel replied with another sob.

"Look me in the eyes," Vance ordered. Once their gazes met, he fed off the fear and humiliation he saw there. "Again," he commanded, "this is your first lesson, my pet."

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel said and Vance grinned as he claimed another piece of soul from the elf.

He held out his hand. "Give me your ring," the stricken look almost made him climax and it took all the years of training to stifle the moan of pleasure. "I will not ask again, slut. I will leave and take my promises with me."

"It will hurt," Nathaniel whispered as he took the Sunwell ring from his finger.

"Master!" Vance corrected tensely.

"Master!" Nathaniel all but wailed as he dropped the ring into Vance's palm.

"Shush, now, you'll learn, you're a smart slut. And the pain only happens if you're away from the ring which means as long as you're close to me you'll be okay, right, my pet?" he asked as he slipped the ring onto a chain and placed it around his neck. Grimy fingers reached for it and Vance grabbed the wrist twisting slightly, enough to cause the elf to cry out. "Do NOT touch me, ever, you dirty faggot," he snapped and Nathaniel let out a strangled sob. "Apologize," he demanded, enjoying every moment of the torment.

"Sorry … Master," the second word was quickly added.

"See, I knew you were a clever slut," Vance said, letting the velvet back into his voice. "Let us get out of this pit shall we? It would be wise to follow closely, the untouched living are not welcomed in these halls. In fact let's do this …" He pulled out a small black cloth and quickly blindfolded Nathaniel, the elf whimpered. Now that his site was obstructed Vance allowed himself to smile. Taking the belt from his robe he handed Nathaniel one end, "hold onto this my pet, I will lead you to safety."

The walk back to his chamber was entertaining as he led his prize. Blind and weak, the elf stumbled over steps and other hazards that he could not see. As such obstacles caused the elf to fall to his knees a third time and in catching himself he dropped the lead. Smirking Vance to a step back and motioned for Foster, who trailed behind, to do the same. Nathaniel's grubby hand scouted the ground in front of him and Vance heard a sharp intake of breath as the end of his belt wasn't found. The search became more frantic.

"Master?"

Vance remained silent and watched.

"Master," Nathaniel's voiced raised in pitch as he grabbed blindly at the ground in front of him, sobbing. "Master, I'm sorry … please don't leave me!"

"And why would I do that my pet?" Vance asked sweetly and Nathaniel turned toward his voice. "You may make amends for your mistake by crawling to me. Followed by licking my shoe until you're calmed down enough to continue."

As he spoke Nathaniel crept toward his voice, his hands searching in front of him. The fingers touched his toes and pulled back, "Sorry," the prostrating elf cried as he inched closer and Vance felt the light pressure against the top of his foot.

The agent of the Lich King caught his breath. The slut was actually doing it, without any further persuasion. The dirty blonde hair pooled around his feet and the elf focused on the orders given. Vance couldn't wait until the grime was washed from it; he bet it gleamed like sunlight. That thought brought the humiliation to an end as he placed the belt end back in Nathaniel's hand. "Let us continue," he said.

Standing, his captive fell in step behind him, his right hand on the wall to help support him and the left holding tightly to the strap. They were walking down the hallway outside his room when a tall slender elf appeared, his skin the color of death; a Darkfallen, one of Queen Lana'thel's San'layn.

"I sense virgin blood," the vampire said with a grin that revealed his dagger like teeth.

"This one is mine, Prince Theraldis" Vance growled as Foster pulled the sword from his back. "A gift from the Master, you will not touch him."

The arrogant elf glared at Vance and then sorted. "He reeks; his blood is probably just a foul. The Master has gifted you with rubbish, how fitting of a man in your stature, Deathspeaker."

Before retaliation could be spoken the elf was gone, but the foul mood remained and Vance had the perfect outlet for it shivering at the end of his belt. Without speaking he jerked on the makeshift leash and Nathaniel stumbled behind him toward his chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three** – _Nathaniel Conway_

There was the sound of a door being unlocked and then the leash went taut again. Nathaniel followed his guide through a doorway. He could feel lush carpet under his bare feet as he crossed the threshold and warmth by the Light the first heat he had felt in weeks. Then the lead went limp in his hand and he froze unsure of direction. The seconds went slowly by without instructions from his Master. _"Master,"_ he thought silently, _"by the Light what have I done?"_ He just couldn't take it any more, not the bitter look of hatred in his brother's eyes as he beat him to near death time and time again. No memory, no name could break through the Lich King's grasp on his brother. At least with Vance he expected hatred and loathing; his brain could come to grips with that. Though at the moment insanity was looking very tempting, it wouldn't take much to unravel the last threads of reason and give into madness.

"Slut."

Vance's voice startled him back to focus on the present. That was all he could do now. Concentrate on the moment, in this place there was no promise of a future. Licking his lips he turned toward the direction of the voice but didn't move. "Master?" he said softly. He had already learned when he was a slut he had done something wrong. When called pet he was safe, but faggot or queer he best brace himself because something dreadful was going to happen. When Vance didn't answer he tried again, "Master, please, what do you wish?"

"I wish for you to stop getting your shit all over my carpet," Vance said coldly.

Nathaniel took a quick step back and collided with someone solid, it didn't take sight to know who that would be; he screamed in terror and crumpled to the ground, covering his head with his arm. The arm would break first before his head if Foster chose to attack him for the offense.

"Shut up!" Vance commanded harshly.

Unaware he was still shrieking, Nathaniel put his right hand over his mouth, keeping a grip on the lead that still hung slack. The blindfold was yanked off and he blinked at the bright light. He was looking down and noticed the ivory carpet had grime where he knelt. "I'll clean it," he cried jerking his hand back and leaving a dirty handprint, "please, I'm sorry." He looked up to see Vance's eyes flash angrily. Realizing his error, he quickly added, "Master, please, I'll clean it. I'm sorry!"

There it was again, a look passed over Vance's face one that scared Nathaniel far worse than the mask of rage and promised pain. It was lust, the elf cowered and in doing so the licentious gaze deepened. Vance seemed to mentally shake himself and distaste returned. "Pick him up," he ordered, "bring him to the shower there, and move quickly."

Strong hands gripped him and he found himself thrown over Foster's broad shoulder. It happened so quickly he didn't have time to be afraid before he was dropped into the corner. Standing he noticed he was indeed in some sort of shower; there was a drain under his feet and an overhead spray nozzle. There was no curtain and only a small ledge to keep the water from spilling out. His hand was empty and he let out a strangled cry as he looked around for the lead, he saw Vance pick it up and after looking at the muddy end he had held onto tossed it into the fire burning at the hearth.

"That will be all I need of your services today, Death Knight," Vance said and to Nathaniel's relief Foster left the room. The respite lasted only a moment as he keeper turned to face him.

"Strip," Vance ordered, "those leggings will have to be burned as well, do not worry I will have something far more fitting for you once you are cleaned."

After all he had been through suddenly being naked in front of the man that had moments ago been looking at him so lecherously seemed terrifying. A sinister look crossed Vance's face as he walked out of sight for a moment. Nathaniel took that second of freedom to turn his back and pull his legging down. They were pooled around his feet when he sensed Vance's return. His fingers clenched into fists at his side as he waited for the next command. White hot pain exploded across his backside and he yelped looking over his shoulder he saw Vance standing there with a riding crop in his hand.

"Master!" he cried as he placed a hand over his stinging ass. "I did as you asked, please."

"Slut," Vance growled, "you're about to learn your second lesson and if you do not want to feel this crop more than necessary I'd suggest you shut the fuck up and listen. First you're going to lower your hands to your side … do not put them in fists damn it." The words were emphasized by another lash across his ass, catching the tips of the fingers of the hand he hadn't moved in time.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me, Master," Nathaniel hated himself for how easy the title came to him.

A rough hand grabbed his hair and shoved him hard against the wall as the crop continued to fall. "I said I would not let others harm you," Vance growled. "I learned long ago you train best when a little pain is involved. Relax those fucking hands or I swear I'll break every one of your fingers." Nathaniel uncurled his fists and dug the fingertips into his thighs to keep himself from making new ones. "No is never the proper answer when I give you an instruction. I expect immediate compliance, anything less will merit punishment." Vance growled. "If I tell you right now to go out there in the hall naked and suck the first dick you see, you will do just that. If I tell you to impale yourself on the hilt of my sword until you bleed you will do it. No is never an option for you. You never tell me not to hit you, you are mine! I'll treat you as I deem fit, if you don't want to feel the leather then I suggest you learn to behave!"

A dozen more lashes fell before the pressure left his head and Vance stepped back. "All right, slut, let's see how well learned. Turn to face me." Nathaniel turned, keeping his hands at his side and his gaze down. "Eyes on me," Vance ordered and he met the stare of the other, but only for a moment as the eyes moved their way down his body.

Without thinking Nathaniel moved his hands to shield himself from the stare, the riding crop pushed his hands away from his manhood. "Hands to the side," Vance's voice had lost the anger and was replaced with another emotion. "By the Dark Master you are tiny aren't you; the whole package would fit easily into the palm of my hand." Vance's hand seemed too flexed in anticipation and Nathaniel cowered.

The human knelt down outside the shower. "Spread your legs, slut," he said, once again the crop was used to enforce the desired distance by pressing on the inner skin of his thighs. The same then prodded his manhood like a child poking an animal to see if it was alive. Nathaniel's face became warm with shame and humiliation. "Make yourself hard," Vance replied with a smirk. "This can't be all of it, never seen an elf dick though."

"Master?" Nathaniel asked confused.

"Make your dick hard," the other commanded again.

"Master, I don't understand … please," Nathaniel was perplexed at the order, he had no idea what the twisted human wanted.

The crop came down hard on his hip and he yelped. "Take your hand and play with your cock, don't tell me you've never pleasured yourself?" The man might as well been speaking orc for all the sense he was making to the battered elf. Vance's eyes lit up and he laughed, it was an evil sound. "You haven't have you? You're only a couple years younger than me and you've never … Prince Theraldis was right you are a virgin in every way."

"All right, pet," Vance said standing, "let's get you cleaned up and then we can continue the training. You reek like the ghoul pits. Turn around and look toward the corner of the shower that is the way you will clean yourself whenever I give you permission to do so." Nathaniel gladly faced away from the man. "Next when I tell you to, turn on the right valve then use the water to scrub off as much grime as you can from your hair and skin once you are done turn the water off and wait for further instructions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel answered. He heard some muted sounds behind him that he couldn't place. Suddenly and old feeling crept up his chest and he startled as the first twinge of pain and want started. "Master, my ring!" he cried.

"Already," Vance said from across the room. "My poor slut, it is now my ring and if you don't want me to throw it out the window I suggest you suffer in silence from here on out." Nathaniel sighed and started trying to do some of the breathing techniques Lady Sylvanas had taught him years ago, to center. It was hard enough to do it under ideal conditions nearly impossible now. Another painful lash crossed his ass startling him. "Acknowledge my answer, slut!" Vance growled, "I honored you with a reply you damn well better appreciate it."

"Yes, Master, forgive me, I'm trying," Nathaniel sighed.

"All right you may rinse yourself," Vance replied.

"Thank you, Master," Nathaniel answered as he turned the right spigot as he been instructed. The icy cold water that rained down on him caused him to cry out and he just stood there as the water pelted him gasping.

"Clean yourself, slut!" Vance ordered.

Starting with his hair he used his fingers to scrub as much of the blood and grime that had gotten matted into it, it was an impossible mass of tangles. He did the best he could before moving to rub his wet hands on his face and chest washing off as much filth as he could. Squatting he worked on his legs and feet, after getting those as clean as possible he started to turn around so the water could hit his back and was reward by a growl as Vance jumped up from the chair he was sitting on nearby. Instinctively Nathaniel raised his hands to block the crop.

"Face the fucking wall," Vance growl, "are you that fucking stupid? And lower those hands, don't you ever shield yourself from my eyes or my hands."

Water was still coming down as Nathaniel whipped around and faced the corner of the shower. "Sorry, Master!" he cried, "I was just trying to clean myself, sorry." The crop came down a half dozen more times on the wet skin it hurt even worse than before.

"Turn off the water," Vance demanded after he was done.

His hand shook as he turned the tap and the shower of icy water stopped. For a moment there was so no noise as he stood there shivering from the cold. When Vance spoke again he jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. "To your left is a bar of soap," the man said, "You may use that to wash yourself. Start with your hair after that work your way down your body … every crevice and hole best be covered with lather when you finish."

Nathaniel found the soap and worked it into his hair, at first it didn't even want to suds because it was so dirty. Eventually it did and he worked lower, washing his face and neck. From there he continued his downward path eventually ending at his feet. Then standing he waited.

"Slut, your back and ass are part of you as well," Vance said.

Using the slick soap he ran it over his tender ass a few times and up his back as far as he could reach. The soap on his face burned his eyes, and any attempt to wipe them away just caused more discomfort. "Rinse with the right valve," he was finally ordered.

Welcoming the cold water this time Nathaniel quickly washed the soap away. The commands were repeated twice more, eventually his hair started feeling normal once more and his skin was pink from scrubbing. "Are you clean, my slut?" Vance asked.

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel replied as his teeth chattered, "thank you for letting me shower."

"Let me see how clean you are," Vance said and Nathaniel felt the man approach from behind. "Spread your legs and if I was you I would relax now." Soft gloved fingers slid down the crack on his backside and Nathaniel startled. "Relax, my pet," Vance all but cooed as something pressed against his tight opening. Nathaniel let out a strangled sound as he was penetrated by one of the gloved fingers. As quickly as it entered the pressure left. "This will not do, slut," a foul smelling finger was wiped across his face from behind. "It is time to teach you the proper way to clean."

Something long, wet and slick was pressed into his right hand. "This is a bar of soap made just for the purpose of cleaning tight little places. It will fit inside you easily; every time you shower you are to thrust it as far as you can inside you ten times. You may look at what you're fucking yourself with."

Nathaniel glanced down at the object in his hand, it was about six inches long and as thick as his thumb, it looked like a skinny corncob carved out of soap. With a sigh he lost his last bit of dignity as he reached behind himself and carefully worked the slick tool into the hole that had been violated a moment ago. It took a couple of tries, he finally found leaning into the far wall, and angling his back allowed it to slide inside. "Count!" Vance ordered.

"One, two, three," thankfully it didn't hurt but it felt weird, his body was unsure what to do with the invasion, "four, five, six" the slippery soap was hard to hold onto, he dug his fingernails into it, last thing he wanted to do was lose it up there. "Seven, eight, nine, and ten," he sighed as he removed the intrusion.

With no new commands given he stood there holding the slick soap tube in his hand, eventually setting it down beside the bar of soap he had used earlier. Behind him he heard a soft moan; through the scent of soap another reached his Ranger trained nose, musk. He had smelled the same scent when he woke to frisky elves during the time he shared a bed with his Ranger unit. There were also nights when he and Foster shared quarters he'd wake to that scent; it confused him then because it was only he and his brother in the room. One evening when he had woke to find Foster across the room his back to him. He had mumbled something sleepily and Foster had turned around looking like he'd gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. His brother seemed embarrassed and angry at the time when Nathaniel questioned him; his answer had been sometimes a man has to take matters into his own hands. It had made no sense to him then, and Foster replied it would when he got older.

"Rinse!" Vance barked breaking him out of his thoughts.

The cold water cascaded down and Nathaniel quickly washed the soap off. Afterwards the orders were given for the water to be turn off and for Nathaniel to genuflect in the shower. The cold stone bit into his knees as he did as commanded, shivering so badly his teeth chattered together loudly. After a long moment fingers found his hair, the scent of musk stronger now. The sharp points of a comb brushed his scalp as Vance started to detangle his hair from behind. It was not a gentle touch, when the comb hit a snarl the man would just jerk the brush through taking the matted hair with it. Focusing on keeping his hands unclenched and biting his lip to be quiet, Nathaniel endured the torment. He was sure there was blood coming for where the hairs were being pulled out by their roots. Eventually the comb passed through effortlessly. An arm appeared over his head as Vance took something off a nearby shelf. It was a bottle, within purple tinted oil. There was the sound of a cork being opened and the strong scent of lavender escaped. Hands returned to his hair as Vance worked the conditioner into his locks. Afterwards the comb returned for a few final strokes.

"Beautiful," the man behind him murmured. "Slut, you are to wear your hair down at all times. Sluts have long hair, makes it easier to seize." The last part seemed to be a thought voiced aloud and not directed at him. By now the water on his skin was causing his shivering to become more intense, the heat he had felt earlier was all but gone. "All right my pet," the man behind him said. "Let's get you dried off and into something warm, stand up."

Rising he stayed where he was watching droplets of water fall down from his wet hair. A rough towel was offered and he quickly squeezed what water he could out of his hair and rubbed it down his body. It did little to relieve the cold. Vance allowed him to step out of the shower once he was dried off and onto a small mat. "All right, let me see what I have that will fit, you're skinner than you were when I collected the items." Vance said with a smile that sent shivers not from cold through Nathaniel's spine.

His captor walked over to a wardrobe and opened the door, from his angle Nathaniel could not see within. The man glanced over at the elf and then reached inside and pulled out a blue cotton dress. Nathaniel was not surprised but couldn't conceal his look of aversion. Vance just smiled and reached back into the cupboard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four** – _Deathspeaker Vance Dixon_

Laying his choice across the chair, Vance turned to face the stricken elf; he was reaching the threshold of the slut's endurance. There was so much more he wanted to do, but this required a delicate hand. He didn't want Nathaniel to shatter … not yet at least. Nonetheless this was one aspect of his pet's new life that needed introduced immediately, perhaps it would make his own thoughts a little less immoral. He moved in front of the elf and knelt, it put him inches away from the miniature manhood. It was bare not even wisps of hair showed. The sacks were small and tucked back. It was the perfect size for the petite pair of lacy underwear he slipped over the elf's feet and slowly pulled up. The small triangle in front completely covered Nathaniel's genitals. Reaching behind he tugged on the back until the cloth slid in-between his sweet little cheeks leaving the ass all but bare.

"I will dress you every morning," Vance said as he stepped back and admired how the underclothing set low on the hips.

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel said in his muted voice. The elf had dark circles under his sapphire eyes, marring the porcelain doll face. Vance made a mental note to add a sleeping agent to the nightcap he gave Nathaniel to help him slumber. Taking the blue dress he had chosen he walked over to the shivering elf. "Raise your arms," he ordered, and then smiling as the hands instantly lifted. "Good, my pet," he said, rewarding the quick action with a kindly word.

The dress slid on easily, it was long sleeve with lace cuffs at the end. The corpse Vance had taken it from had been a lean woman, and as he had hoped it fit the elf well. Moving behind Nathaniel he quickly buttoned up the back. Then taking the cool hand of the silent elf he walked over to a full-size mirror. "Look at you, my pet," he said smoothly. The cobalt eyes glanced up for a second and look of disgust crossed them before he glanced back down. His worried fingers worked the dresses fabric as he kept his hands at his side. Vance smiled as he brushed back Nathaniel's hair, the elf in the mirror was beautiful there was just one last touch. Picking up the final article he fastened a lace velvet choker around Nathaniel's neck, hiding the small nervous lump on his throat.

The elf quietly studied himself him the mirror and Vance waited, counting slowly to twenty, when he realized no gratitude was forth coming he scowled and the reflection startled. "Master …"

"Be silent!" he shouted grabbing the wrist of the other and dragging him over to a nearby chair. Sitting he jerked Nathaniel over his lap, the dress was very simple there was no petticoat so the ass was easy to find and that was what he hit hard with his hand. It left a nice rosy print on the left cheek and he gave the right one the same treatment. He continued the spanking. "You ungrateful little slut, I bathed you, I dressed you and do I even get a thank you? No I get a fucking look of disgust. You want to see revulsion wait until I send you down to the Death Knight hall with nothing but your panties on!"

"Sorry, Master, thank you for the clothes," Nathaniel cried.

"I said be quiet!" Vance snapped.

His hand ached by the time he stopped he noticed the fair skin had gotten a purple tint to it. That was going to hurt to sit on for a few days, a lesson not soon forgot. Pulling the dress down he stood Nathaniel back up, he stumbled but didn't fall. The elf's cheeks were wet with tears as his hands once again returned to the cloth of the dress, working the material between his fingers. Nathaniel rocked back and forth, whispering in a language Vance couldn't understand. The necromancer frowned, he had pushed too hard.

"Come," he ordered and walked over to the sitting area in front of the fire. Taking a seat in a plush arm chair he gestured to the pillow on the floor between it and the fireplace. "Sit," he ordered. Nathaniel went to sit on the couch across from him. "No!" he commanded and alarmed eyes found his. He motioned to the pillow again and the elf shuffled over and knelt on the cushion. Taking up a nearby tray of sweet rolls Vance broke a piece off and popped it in his mouth, the cinnamon and sugar tasted delicious. Nathaniel watched him silently but wore his hunger. After finishing one roll he took a drink of the sweet nectar that had been poured earlier. Content he looked down at the elf watching him. "What did I promise you, my pet?"

"To protect me," the genuflecting man whispered.

"And?" Vance pressed.

"To wash me, dr..ess me," Nathaniel stuttered over the word, "keep me warm … thank you for letting me sit by the fire, Master."

"And feed you," Vance concluded, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," Nathaniel said softly, "Master."

Vance smiled and broke of a piece of roll. "Open your mouth, my pet, but to not close it until I say too." Those lush lips parted and Vance set the bite of bread on the elf's tongue. Then while watching to make sure his command was followed he finished off the roll while the other waited. Only after he finished did he put a finger against Nathaniel's open lips. "You may swallow." The mouth closed.

"Thank you, Master," Nathaniel softly said.

Taking a third roll he tore a piece off and brushed a finger against Nathaniel's cheek. "Open," the lips parted and he placed the morsel inside. The mouth remained open and he smiled. Placing his finger over the lips he said, "swallow." He fed the entire roll to the man one bite at time. After each morsel the kneeling elf would thank him. "You are a smart pet," Vance said as he put the final bite into the tempting mouth. Brushing his thumb across the trembling lips he said huskily, "swallow." After the order had been followed, Vance looked down at his sugar coated fingers. "Open," he said with a smirk. The lips parted and he slid his index and middle finger into the mouth. "Suck them clean, slut." He knew it had been a mistake to command such a thing at the first suckle. The touch was unbelievable sensual. After only a moment he pulled his fingers away. Tonight's fun was going to have to come to an end before he spoiled himself on the first day. "All right my pet, I know you're still hungry but any more food tonight will just make you ill."

He stood and walked over to where his evening tea waited for him, brought in earlier by a servant. Pouring himself and Nathaniel a cup he blocked the view of the other as he added the sleeping drug that would knock the elf out quickly. Bringing the cups back to the fire he set drugged one down as he sipped his own tea. Nathaniel sat quiet beside him. As he drank he ran his free hand through the silky hair of the elf, it felt just like he thought it would. The lavender aroma was a pleasant one. After he drained his cup he picked up Nathaniel's. "Open," he commanded and the lips parted. As he went to pour the now cool liquid, the elf's nose wrinkled and he pulled back slightly closing his mouth with an alarmed look. So the slut knew his herbs. Vance started to silently count to twenty on three the lips opened once more and he poured a tablespoon of the tea within. The mouth remained opened and a dribble of tea escaped down his chin. "Swallow," Vance commanded and the lips closed, he saw the subtle movement on the neck to confirm the tea had been drunk.

"Thank you, Master," Nathaniel whispered.

"For liquids you do not have to wait for the swallow command," Vance said, "otherwise you'll just make a mess out of your dress … open."

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel replied as his lips parted again. Soon the cup was empty and Vance set it down next to his.

"Stand and turn away from me," Vance commanded. The elf seemed to struggle to stand, stumbling a little and catching himself on the arm of the chair he had been kneeling next to. He turned around and Vance undid the buttons down the back of the dress. "Arms up," he ordered and smiled as they were lifted. He slid the dress up and over the elf's head. Leaving Nathaniel there in his lacy underclothing Vance walked over to the wardrobe and hung the dress up. He took out a small wool blanket from the bottom of the dresser and brought it back over to the fire. "You may sleep here in front of the flames," he said. "The carpet is lush enough and here is blanket you may use if you desire."

"Thank you, Master," Nathaniel said taking the offered blanket. "Am I to rest now?"

"Yes," Vance said as the elf started to kneel down. "However, first you must kiss me good night."

Nathaniel froze mid-genuflect and then slowly stood back up and turned to face Vance. "I'm not allowed to touch you, Master," he said.

"I just gave you permission to," Vance replied. "Kiss me good night, slut."

Nathaniel nervously licked his lips and then quickly leaned forward and placed a quick peck on Vance's cheek before pulling back. "Good night, Master," he said softly, hope easily read on his face that he had done enough.

"On the lips," Vance growled and enjoyed the stricken look of the other at the command.

With a sigh Nathaniel leaned forward again and pressed his lips against Vance's, they were as soft and lush as he'd dreamt. He wrapped his hand in the corn silk hair and held the elf there. To his credit Nathaniel did not try to pull away at least not until Vance licked the tense lips. "Open," he murmured.

Nathaniel then tried to pull away and his grip tightened. "Testing me again, slut?" Vance warned. There was a sob and Nathaniel's lips parted allowing him access to the warmth inside. He broke the kiss then without going any further. "Sleep," he instructed gesturing to the floor. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Nathaniel's hand moved to his lips as he stood there for a long moment. Vance reached for the crop resting on the bed and the elf's eyes got large as he fell to the ground, cowering. "Thank you, Master," he cried, "good night." Leaving him like that Vance walked over to the dresser and laid the crop down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Nathaniel lay down, the blanket he had given him was too short to cover his entire body. Eventually the elf settled on keeping his shoulders covered as he curled up in a ball facing the fire.

Vance collected the dishes from the meal he had shared with his new toy, eventually it would be the elf's job to do so but it could wait for now. He walked back over to the fire and picked up the book he had been reading and settled into the chair. After struggling to make it through a chapter he set it down on the end table and studied the sleeping elf on the floor. The drugs he had given him worked quickly he didn't have to worry about being seen as he slipped out of his robe. His manhood hard and throbbing, the earlier release while watching Nathaniel fuck himself already forgotten. Sitting back down on the chair he slowly stroked himself, his eyes on the luscious ass of the tempting elf. The fair skin had indeed turned a light purple from the harsh spanking earlier, it would most likely be darker by tomorrow. Vance smirked and increased his strokes. In his sleep Nathaniel turned toward him, his face peaceful and lips parted. A whispered command would have those delightful lips part and he could … with a moan he released his passion. The warmth spattered his leg. For a long moment he sat were he was, letting his heartbeat return to normal. Then he stood to find a cloth to clean up with. First though he used his finger to capture some of his seed and wiped it on Nathaniel's lips and cheeks. Let the hunter wake to that scent, he thought with a grin. Afterwards he cleaned up and staying naked slipped into his own bed. He fell asleep dreaming of the days to come and the training that awaited the imp that had haunted him for all these years. Yes, the slut was going to pay for making him like this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five** – _Nathaniel Conway_

_Five Years Ago …_

"_Those of you who have the will to save this land follow me! The rest of you ... get out of my sight!"_

_Nathaniel shook his head as the words of their Prince echoed within him. This couldn't be happening; this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He glanced over to his side where Foster rode on the back of Knight, his armor gleaming in the sunlight. They were racing through the Forest of Darrowmere, away from the death, flames and most likely towards even worse._

_It had been a little over two years ago now that they had left their father's farm and joined the ranks of Knights of the Silver Hand. Well, he had never truly been accepted, he was never given the chance to bend the Light in the way his brother had been trained to do. They tolerated him because they wanted Foster, and allowed him to stay for his deadly accuracy with a bow. As the years passed his brother continued to become an even better defender, there had been no foe that could topple him, until now. This one did not have a face; it was invisible and struck without remorse, the plague._

"_Brother, what do we do?" He shouted as they raced away from Stratholme and the death his Prince was leaving in his wake._

"_The Prince disbanded the Order," Foster replied, "we save our family and get the hell away."_

"_What if …?" he couldn't voice his fear aloud, the fires from Andorhal still fresh in his mind. They had destroyed the Andorhal granaries two days ago, but the plague-infested grain had already been shipped to surrounding towns. The people within Andorhal had started to turn right before their eyes, coming out of their homes … walking corpses intent on destroying the living. They hadn't the means to save anyone; they could only flee and leave those still clinging to life to be damned. Except Nathaniel and Foster had disobeyed Lord Uther's command and had tried to help their childhood friend, Marlene Redpath who lived outside Andorhal. They had arrived too late._

"_Our family is self-reliant," Foster said, "we only eat food from our own lands. If we're quick we might still save them. Had I know this is where things were headed I would have deserted after Andorhal!"_

_They were approaching Corin's Crossing; Foster aimed his horse to go around. "We have to get Sis!" Nathaniel shouted continuing down the road. "And the others what about the others," he whispered. Would they believe them, what they saw … dead people standing back up, their minds gone, this was insane._

_The streets were deathly quiet when they rode through, Nathaniel noticed Foster take his shield off his back. They both pulled up the bandanas they wore around their neck to cover their nose and mouths. The school house was their first stop, on the door was a sign "Closed Due To Illness" _

_Nathaniel turned Rook around and rode her toward the Inn; it was where Janice was staying last they knew. He knocked on the door, after a long moment he heard the shuffling of feet. Foster moved around, raising his shield in front of him. There was some relief when the door opened to the tired face of Donald O'Connell. _

"_Oh … Conway boys," he said weakly. "Ellen will be upset she missed you, but she hasn't felt good the past couple days. The whole damn town seems to have come down with a bad case of the flu or something …"_

"_I'm sorry to bother you," Foster said, his voice choked with emotions. "Is our sister here?"_

"_Oh, Janice, no without children to teach she went back to the farm to wait it out," he said._

"_Was she sick when she left?" Nathaniel asked._

"_I don't think so," Donald rubbed his forehead. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm not feeling very well myself."_

"_I'm a paladin," Foster said softly, "let me help you back to your room, I can help."_

"_Brother!" Nathaniel cried out alarmed. _

_Foster squeezed his shoulder. "It will be okay, just stay here, and be on your guard."_

"_On your guard …" Donald mumbled as Foster led him back into the house, "you boys have been in the military too long."_

"_Foster, please," Nathaniel whispered, "don't do this."_

"_I can't save them, but I can save their souls," his brother said softly._

"_And what of your soul?" Nathaniel asked._

_Nathaniel's heart broke as his brother closed the door behind him. He knew there was no hope for the O'Connells, unlike the Prince who was killing both the healthy and the damned his brother was only making sure their friends stayed in the Light. Closing his eyes he listened, except for the occasional squeak from a loose door the town was deathly quiet. He eyed the smith, he should check on the Madisons they were almost like family._

_Taking the bow from his back he notched an arrow and walked toward the blacksmiths. As he approached he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps. "Mr. Madison is that you?" Nathaniel called out._

_A hunched form shambled out of the door, the way it walked was all wrong and Nathaniel's blood ran cold. He released the arrow catching what had once been Kyle Madison in the shoulder; the zombie looked at the arrow for a moment before getting a wicked look on its face. "Brains …." It murmured as it lurched forward. _

_Nathaniel let a second arrow go, this one landed right between the eyes and the zombie paused, its eyes crossing. Turning he ran toward the horses, his brother was just coming out of the inn and he shouted. Foster looked over his way alarmed and raising his gauntlet covered hand he chanted, a bright light burst forth from his palm and Nathaniel could feel the heat of the attack on his cheek as it blasted what had been Kyle._

_Without speaking the brothers swung up on their horses and raced toward home, leaving the damned town behind. "Brother …" Nathaniel didn't know what to say._

"_It's going to be okay," Foster lied, "promise, Baby Brother, just stay focused."_

_They came to Wendy's and York's homestead next; Nathaniel was comforted in the smoke rising from the chimney. "Sis!" he shouted as he raced up. The door opened and Lucy ran out, Nathaniel was surprised how big she had gotten. She was a young teenager now and beside her was his namesake, Nate. "Sis!" he shouted again, as the children ran over screaming happily. He gathered them up in his arms, relived they looked well._

_A young woman he did not know came out the doorway. "What's with all the shouting?" she said with a scowl, "you'll wake her." _

"_Too late for that, Hazel," Wendy said as she appeared; Nathaniel was shocked to see she was very pregnant. "By the Light, what bring you boys home? We weren't expecting to see you for a few more months."_

"_Sis," Foster said, "I need you to trust me … something very terrible is happening in our lands. First off have any of you eaten any grain that might have come from Andorhal or food made from it?"_

_To their relief she shook her head. "No, Brother, we sell our grain to them but use our own to eat … you're scaring me …" she rubbed her belly._

"_So everyone feels okay?" Nathaniel asked, "Corin's spoke of a flu …"_

"_Yeah, Pa and Kyle came down with it," the woman Nathaniel now knew was Hazel Madison. "Ma had her hands full so sent me down here to watch over, preggy."_

"_It has been a week since we've been to Corin's," Wendy said, "your father came by the other day to tell us the school had been closed, much to Wendy's delight and my chagrin."_

"_Sis," Foster said, "we need to leave."_

"_So go," she said with a smile, "our family will be excited to see you."_

"_No," Foster said, "we need to leave these lands, you the children, your husband … if you stay you will die or even worse … and we have very little time."_

"_You're scaring the children," Wendy said with a frown, "this isn't funny."_

"_It's not a joke," Nathaniel said pleading, "please, Sis, you need to go with us now or you'll die … something awful has been released in the Forest of Darrowmere it's taking the living and turning them … into something that is no longer human. Where is York?"_

_The women stared at them stunned looks on their faces. "In the fields," Wendy finally said. She reached up and rang a large bell hung up over her door. "That will call him in," she said. "Children, I need you to go pack a small bag, looks like we're going on a trip with your Uncles, move quickly."_

"_I should go back to town …" Hazel started._

"_No!" Nathaniel shouted, "I'm sorry … it's a miracle you are clean. That wasn't the flu … I'm sorry we checked on your family before we came here … they … I'm sorry …"_

_Hazel looked stricken and Wendy quickly embraced her. _

"_I'll stay here," Foster said, "go hurry to the homestead, if … things look bad come back here otherwise we'll meet you there as soon as possible."_

_Nathaniel nodded and raced off on the back of Rook. A short time later he was racing up to the house, he let out the whistle to call his family to him as he slid off the saddle and met his mother and Rosemary on the porch._

"_Do be quiet," Ma chided, "Janice is trying to sleep …"_

"_Sleep?" Nathaniel said stricken, "is she sick?"_

"_Just a little touch of the flu," Ma said, "she'll be right as rain in a few days, something going around town." She paused and studied him. "What's wrong, Nathaniel?"_

"_Is anyone else sick?" he asked, unable to stop himself he stepped away and threw up. "Focus," he whispered to himself. _

"_Nah," his Ma said, "we're hardy bunch of folks."_

_Over her shoulder he saw Pa, Sara and Grant returning from the fields. His relief at seeing his Pa was almost overwhelming. "Pa" he shouted. The frantic cry in his voice sped up the arrival of the others._

"_Is your brother okay?" Ma asked._

"_Yes," Nathaniel said. "I don't know how I'm going to explain this …"_

"_Take a deep breath," his pa said, as he reached out and embraced him for a long moment. "Then just say what needs to be said."_

_He took the suggested breath and started talking. He told them of Andorhal and what was happening at Stratholme. Then went on to explain what they had seen at Corin's, as he spoke he saw their faces share the same horror his own did. _

"_So there is no hope once the sickness set in."_

_Alarmed Nathaniel looked over to find Janice standing in the doorway. "Sis!"_

_She held up a hand as the others moved toward her. "You heard as well as I did," she said. "It's the Conway blood that has kept me strong this long. There is still hope for you; you must leave this cursed land. As for me, my soul will remain in Darrowmere."_

Nathaniel awoke from a dream to find himself in hell. Like when he was a child and his mother would drug his nightcap so he would sleep while she shortened his ears he woke nauseated. His head spun as he sat up slowly. The fire from last night had died down to a few burning coals, barely adding any warmth. As he sat up fully he flinched when placing his ass down, it hurt badly and he shifted to kneeling. Pulling the too small blanket over his shoulders he glanced around the room. His heart sunk to find Vance studying him from the chair he had been sitting in last night. The scent of musk was overwhelming and he shuddered.

"Morning, Master," he said faintly.

"Sleep well, my pet?" Vance asked in his velvet voice.

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel answered truthfully. "Though, I don't feel very good at the moment. Don't think the herbs you added to my tea last night agree with me, though I do appreciate their effect, thank you, Master."

Vance nodded, standing he moved over to a nearby cabinet and looked through it, eventually taking out a dark blue glass bottle. After picking up a spoon he returned to the kneeling elf. Nathaniel's heart began to race as he watched the man towering over him fill the spoon with syrupy liquid that poured out of the bottle. An unpleasant scent reached him as Vance ordered his mouth to open. There was no alternative so lips parted and the bitter medicine poured down his throat, at least he hoped it was medication. Gagging as he swallowed he shuddered and whispered a thank you. That lesson he had learned well last night, no matter what was done to him for good or for bad, Vance required gratitude.

Boney fingers brushed through his hair, a sign he had performed properly. Closing his eyes Nathaniel tried to focus on calming his nervous stomach and aching head. A few minutes passed in silence, a quick glance at his keeper showed an expression lost in thought and not one of rage for a misstep. The fingers on his head paused. "Do you need to use the chamber pot, pet?"

Nathaniel's breath caught, as he tried to think of the correct answer, he quickly came to the conclusion there probably wasn't one so answered truthfully, "yes, Master."

"You may use the one behind the screen there," Vance said as he gestured to a curtained off corner near the door. Standing unsteadily Nathaniel walked over to the curtain, he could feel the eyes of the other follow him. He found a simple lavatory within, the aforementioned toilet and a small basin. As his fingers brushed against the lacy under clothing he wore he paused, by the Light what had he done? Was this truthfully better than the cell he'd been locked in for the past weeks?

"Slut!"

Nathaniel jerked around at Vance's shout to find the man standing behind him. He went to pull the underwear down but his wrist was harshly grabbed and he was dragged out. "Master please, I didn't use it…"

"Next time maybe you'll piss a little faster," Vance growled.

Nathaniel sobbed as he was dragged over to the door of the room in nothing but the silk underwear; the threat of being paraded around dressed as such foremost on his mind. His wrist was released as the door was jerked open. Vance gestured down at the tray resting on the ground.

"Your first task of the day will be to collect my breakfast tray every morning and bring it to the fire," Vance ordered.

Nathaniel bent down and picked up the tray and carried it to the table in front of the chair Vance had sat in last time. "Steep my tea," the man ordered. "While it stands, relight the fire and then kneel at my side."

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel said as he poured the steaming water from the teapot on the tray into a cup. His hand shook splashing the water slightly. "Sorry, Master," he whispered as he set the kettle down and went to work on the fire. Soon he had a welcomed blaze crackling so he moved to kneel beside Vance,

His stomach growled at the savory scents wafting from the Deathspeaker's plate. Eventually the anticipated command to "Open" was given and his lips parted. A small piece of sausage was placed in his mouth. It tasted like steak to the starving elf as he closed his lips around the succulent morsel. A scream of rage came from Vance and Nathaniel cowered as the tray went flying.

"Spit it out!" the man shouted.

Nathaniel looked up, confused. The man had given him the bite hadn't he? "Spit it out, or I swear I'll break your fucking jaw!" Nathaniel spit the slightly chewed piece of meat into Vance's hand. The bite was tossed into the fire. "Who fucking told you, you could swallow."

Last night's meal came back and Nathaniel's blood chilled as his error became obvious. "I'm sorry, Master," Nathaniel cried as Vance stormed over to his dresser. The elf knew what rested there. "Please, Master, I forgot … please … I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you will be," Vance said as he stalked over, the crop in hand. "Time for another lesson you ungrateful slut. I should have left you to your brother! Present that ass to me, now!" Nathaniel's whole body trembled as he turned away from the man, still kneeling. A strong hand grabbed the back of his head and forced it down to the ground. "Head down, ass up … legs apart let what little you have dangle freely. If I tell you to present this is what I want to see."

The first fall of the crop cut across his upper thigh, the second lash struck his bruised ass and cuts from yesterday's beatings. Hot white pain exploded and Nathaniel screamed. There was another blow and to his horror he felt his bladder release. Gripping his crotch he ignored Vance's shout and hurried over to the shower. Once inside he quickly dropped back down in the desired position. The smell of urine was overpowering but there little he could do but brace for the beating to come.

Instead he heard a dark laugh, which was very disconcerting. "Wise move, slut, if you had pissed on my carpet you would be licking it clean." The crop fell again and again, after what felt like dozens of blows it stopped and he sensed Vance walk away. There was the sound of dishes being collected.

"Stand and face the corner," Vance ordered, "when I order it rinse with the right nozzle. Let's hope you haven't forgotten this lesson, I do not want to spend my mornings retraining your stupid self."

"Master," Nathaniel said, "my … underwear."

"Of course," Vance said approaching, "that one is covered in your fear isn't, my slut? I would suggest using the chamber pot next time when I give you permission." Nathaniel startled at the feeling of a knife blade's back edge working its way down his spine. "I'd be really still now, slut," Vance said as the blade slipped under the cotton waistband. There was a slight jerk and the cloth fell free, pooling around his ankles. "Rinse!"

Nathaniel quickly rinsed his hair. Though tousled from sleep his locks still felt a thousand times better than they had the day before. After wetting down the rest of him, he turned the chilly water off and waited. The minutes crawled by and then the order to wash was given. Starting with his hair he used the bar of soap. Once he finished he picked up the slender soap resting on the tray and with a sigh leaned forward and slowly worked it inside him from behind. "One, two, three, four," he counted quickly.

"Slow down, slut," Vance growled his voice raw with emotion. "Start over, slowly thrust … get that dirty hole clean."

"One … two …" Nathaniel slowed the count; he just wanted the intrusion out. Once he reached ten he set the soap back on the shelf and waited. Eventually the rinse command was given.

"Let's see how you did today, slut," Vance said, "present."

Dropping to the shower floor Nathaniel lowered his head and raised his ass. He expected the gloved finger but this time it slammed into him and he cried out. "What's wrong, slut?" Vance growled, "you queers like your ass played with don't you?"

"No, Master," Nathaniel said.

"Did you just tell me no?" Vance's voice was like daggers and Nathaniel knew it was too late to correct.

The pressure left as Vance stalked off. Nathaniel knew he was retrieving the crop and bit the back of his hand to stop from screaming when it struck. There was the sound of a drawer opening and then Vance moved back over to the shower. There wasn't the immediate pain of the crop instead something hard and cold pressed against the violated opening. There was no warning as something unforgiving was shoved inside and he yelled.

"Not even a tight fit," Vance said with malice, "knew you were a slut. We'll keep that in you until …"

"Please," Nathaniel begged, "Please take it out, I'll be good Master I swear I'll be good."

"Oh slut," Vance growled, "You just don't know when to shut the fuck up."

To Nathaniel's surprise the invasion was removed and there was the sound of metal on glass as it was tossed into a nearby sink. To his horror something larger pressed against him and slowly inside. "That's right slut," Vance growled. "Take it all … this one is a tight fit, look at your greedy little ass taking it in."

It felt as if it was spearing him in the gut and Nathaniel wailed.

"Go ahead, slut," Vance said, "tell me again what I should or shouldn't do to you … I have a bigger toy sitting right there ready to split you open."

Soon the continued pressure stopped just leaving him feel full to the core. Vance ran a damp finger up and down his ass crack, whatever the toy was it was now completely inside him. "I knew you were a whore," the man said, as his hand dipped lower and cupped Nathaniel's flaccid manhood. There was a sharp intake of breath as the hand pulled away. "Kneel," Vance ordered. "Don't let it slip out or we'll go up another size."

Nathaniel sat up, reaching behind him as he did. The object inside him fell like a broomstick.

"Don't fucking touch it," Vance growled. "Clench those ass cheeks of yours to keep it inside you."

Moving his hands back to his sides, he knelt in front of Vance. He was freezing, beaten, violated in a way he could not comprehend, starving and the drugs from last night still messed with his head. If there was a hell he had to suppose it was something like this. His brother had spent a year a prisoner to first a cruel taskmaster and then a sadistic naga. Though it was hard to keep track of time, Nathaniel had to wager he'd been here a month and already felt more broken than his brother had ever gotten. Foster often spoke of the orc maiden that helped him get through the darkest of times. There was no one like that for Nathaniel, beyond family. So those faces were the ones he tried his best to cling to, but it was hard … so hard.

"Slut!"

Nathaniel startled out of musing and looked up into the angry face of his keeper. He couldn't even start to guess what command he had missed or broken. A thought from yesterday came back and he dropped to the ground apologizing and slowly started licking Vance's slippers. There was a deep intake of breath from above and Nathaniel continued running his tongue across the velvet foot. Thankfully Vance seemed to be a clean freak and there was little taste other than the cloth. Dignity long ago lost, Nathaniel's only desire was to avoid further beatings his entire backside ached in ways he never knew was possible.

"All right, slut," Vance said, "apology accepted, if you have calmed down raise your head so I can comb it. If you need it, you may have another moment to yourself while you continue with the cleansing of my shoes."

Nathaniel licked the slippers a few more times before he rose and rested his ass on his heels. The toy inside him shifted and he pressed a hand against his belly. By the Light it hurt. Biting his lip to remain mute he lowered his hands to his sides as Vance started combing through his hair. There were fewer tangles this time so the anguish of last night was not repeated and soon the lavender conditioner was being worked into his hair.

"Stand," Vance ordered.

Nathaniel struggled to obey, doing as Vance had said he kept his ass clenched to keep whatever that was inside him within. A rough towel was offered and as he dried off Vance walked over the wardrobe that held the dress from last night. Nathaniel shuddered and lowered his eyes to focus on the other's man feet. Like a child he prayed if he didn't see it, then it wasn't really happening.

The feet walked back over to him and Vance knelt down, their eyes met and the other man smiled. In his hands was a second pair of lacy women's underwear. With little choice he raised his left foot and let the underclothing be slide up one leg and then the other. Unable to watch Nathaniel looked away as the cloth was raised up to his thigh, there it paused. Cool fingers cupped him between the legs and he startled but thankfully remembered not to turn away. The hand squeezed his manhood almost gently, before the underwear was pulled up and once again the thin material in the back was forced to slide into his crack. Though it felt uncomfortable, he welcomed it today. It aided in holding the toy inside. Vance seemed to agree as he reached around behind the elf and ran his finger the length of the crack, over the underwear pausing at the tight opening.

"Good job, pet," Vance said. "Keep it inside you until lunch and I may share my food with you."

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel answered.

"Raise your arms," Vance ordered. The same blue dress from last night was slipped over his head and his keeper moved behind to button it. "I have a very limited collection of clothing for you. Please do try to keep them clean, otherwise I'll be force to go 'shopping' for more."

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel said, with a soft sigh as Vance stepped back to study him. He wondered what was going through the twisted man's mind but decided it was probably best not knowing.

There was a knock on the door and Vance frowned. "Enter," he commanded. A female human with auburn hair and matching tattoos to Vance's walked in and curtsied. "Sorry to interrupt, Deathspeaker, your presence has been requested by Noth the Plaguebringer. He waits for you at his lab."

Vance nodded curtly and the messenger's eyes moved to Nathaniel, the woman scowled and the elf looked down.

"Slut," Vance said, "the rats in the ghoul pits are more welcomed here than you. Show some respect and bow to those above you."

Nathaniel bent at the waist and was awarded by a crop across his abused ass. He cried out and looked over at his Master alarmed.

"Bow properly, slut," Vance growled.

Nathaniel frowned; he had been trained in Silvermoon by the Nanny Deni how to bow to royalty. He placed his left hand behind his back, bent at the elbow, resting just above his waist; the right hand went on his waist also bent at the elbow. He bent his upper body until his back was horizontal and then stood up letting his hands return to his sides.

The crop fell again and he choked back a sob. "Master, please show me," he begged, "Show me what you want. I'll learn … I swear … please …"

"My apologies, Lady Janelle," Vance said, "I won't take any more of your time and will report to the Plaguebringer right away."

Janelle nodded and bowed once more, Nathaniel watched the curtsy as woman made a hasty retreat. His hands fingered the cloth of the dress he wore and a thought came to him.

"We're you watching, slut?"

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel replied.

"Show me," Vance instructed.

Nathaniel thought back to his youth when his Ma was teaching his sisters how to curtsy before the Winter Ball. For the most part he and Foster and spent their time making fun of said actions by over exaggerating their sisters' awkward movements. Putting his right foot behind his left, he bowed his head as he bent his knees lifting the dress up slightly.

"Straighten your back," Vance ordered as walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a dark robe. "Move in front of the mirror so you can watch yourself."

Nathaniel walked over to the full length mirror; the reflection looking back at him was hard to take. He looked like a nightmare with eyes bloodshot from tears, and dark circles under both eyes. The dress he wore was big for his thin frame. The fabric of the dress rubbed against his tender skin as he curtsied, keeping his back straight. A jolt of pain went through him and he screamed, the object inside him hurt and the movement aggravated it.

He saw Vance looks his way in the reflection as he donned the robe. A cruel grin crosses the human's face. "Again," he said.

Nathaniel tried once more and was reward with the same ache. He knelt resting his forehead against the cool glass as he doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was granted a brief moment of reprieve before the footfalls behind approached. Struggling to his feet once more he stood.

"Is there a problem, slut?"

Nathaniel let out a choked sob. There was no answer to that question that wouldn't further his punishment. Denying it would involve saying "No" which was against the rules Vance had given, if he said it hurt then the larger 'toy' would be used. Strong fingers grabbed his jaw and jerked his head to face his keeper. "Do you suddenly not understand Common, slut?"

"I don't feel good, Master," Nathaniel answered truthfully. "I'll try again, sorry."

The fingers stayed on either side of his chin as Vance studied him. "I had hoped I would have this day to continue your education; however this is one summons I dare not ignore. You will have to train yourself." He gestured toward the mirror. "You will continue practicing your bow until I return." Walking over to the dresser Vance opened a small box sitting on top and took out what looked like a glass globe the size of his hand. There was also a small stand within. Both of these he took over to where Nathaniel stood and sat the stand with the orb resting on it, on the top of a nearby dressing table.

"This is a viewing glass," he said. "I'll be able to keep an eye on you while I'm away. If I have not returned by the time the clock strikes twelve you are allowed to get one glass of water from the pitcher there. Beyond that your ass best be in front of this mirror and within my sights at all time or the spanking you got yesterday will feel like a swat on the back of the hand compared to what waits for you when I return. Understand my slut?"

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel said eyeing the mirror and the orb.

"Show me," Vance ordered. Putting his right foot behind his left, he bowed his head as he bent his knees. This time he made no outward signs of the pain that jolted through him and Vance nodded. "Very good, my pet," he said. "I do hope the Plaguebringer doesn't keep me too long. I would like to get you presentable as soon as possible. I will take my leave now, remember though I am watching. Kiss your master goodbye."

There was little he could do about the tears of shame that slid down his cheeks, as he leaned forward and kissed the cruel man fully on the lips. This time there was no further orders and as his Master left the room, Nathaniel caught a glimpse of Foster standing outside but thankfully the door was closed leaving him alone. He eyed the globe on the table as the pain from separation from his ring added to the multiple discomforts he already suffered. Crossing his ankles once again he curtsied at his reflection. At least even if he wasn't truly alone until Vance returned there wouldn't be the pain of the crop and maybe if he did well enough for his Master even when he returned he would escape the kiss of leather.

It had been less than an hour before the first wave of faintness struck and he stumbled. Glancing at the orb frightfully he quickly regained his feet. As he looked down to make sure his position was correct he was startled to see a large deep crimson stain on the ivory carpet. The ache inside had become a dull throb. In his stupor brought on by hunger and pain he had failed to notice the warmth running down his legs. He was bleeding profusely from whatever Vance had done to him. He eyed the blemish on the carpet; at this rate he wouldn't remain conscious much longer. A hopeful thought entered his brain as he lowered the dress he wore to cover the blood soaked carpet and bowed into the mirror. If he could last long enough, he may reach the point beyond any healer's ability to call back from the Light. He could be free of this place and not break the oath given those years ago. Another half-hour passed before he fell to his knees. Struggling he stood once more, curtsied at the orb and mouthed the words, "Sorry, Master," before he continued bowing at the mirror. It was only another five minutes before he stumbled again. His skin felt clammy and his pulse beat rapidly. He rested a hand against the mirror staring at his reflection.

"Just a little more," he whispered as he continued the routine. Finally after few more bows he could do no more and let himself fall to the ground. As his vision blurred he heard no shouts coming from the hall. "Please, please let it be enough," he whispered as he closed his eyes, he could feel warmth embrace him and he smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**– _Deathspeaker Vance Dixon_

Vance frowned as he glanced down at the scrying crystal around his neck. It had been ten minutes since he noticed his prisoner was no longer within the crystal's sight. Prior to that he had been helping Master Noth with his latest experiment, the corpse of the male troll they had tested it on was already in the last moments of decay. Of course the troll hadn't started out as a corpse. Noth was mumbling under his breath and making notes in a book he held.

The scowl deepened as the crystal remained focused on an empty space. On one hand he had promised the slut much pain if he disobeyed him but on the other hand it was obvious the elf had reached his breaking point. If he pushed any harder his pet would lose his mind and the fun would be over. Perhaps it was time to switch from vinegar to honey. The ring around his neck suddenly became very cold; he hadn't noticed the warmth it possessed until it faded.

He looked at the crystal once more and a thought occurred, the slut wouldn't have … he voiced a quick apology to the aged necromancer who was still busy scribbling in his book and was given a curt nod of dismissal. Racing out the door and down the hall Vance ignored all the stares his haste was earning. If the elf thought he would escape his chains by suicide he was going to be sorely disappointed, death was a gift to be given in this place.

Foster was still standing guard outside his door. Vance had heard from the murmurings of how much the Death Knight detested his duties, missing out of the slaughtering of the Scarlet Crusade in New Avalon. The Deathspeaker allowed himself a small grin; there was little grief he could bring the eldest Conway brother after he had been chosen as one of the Master's Death Knights. Even the smallest distress for his old foe was a welcomed one. "Useless, oaf," he growled storming past and into his room.

Nathaniel lay crumbled on the floor; a large crimson halo surrounded the still form. "Go fetch a healer," Vance barked to the Death Knight that followed him inside. For a moment a look crossed Foster's death marked face, if the necromancer hadn't known better he could have sworn it was sadness.

"Right away, Sir," Foster replied with a slight bow as he hurried out the door, his face one again a mask of annoyance.

Vance knelt down; Nathaniel's flesh was a cold as a corpse. He pulled up both sleeves the wrists were untouched, the blood wasn't coming from there. The elegant neck was also untouched, where had the slut wounded himself? The dress was a loss so he had no qualms as he reached around the still form and ripped the buttons down the back. Pulling the now torn bodice down he saw the chest was also unmarked. Only after he pulled the dress off fully did he see the blood stained legs and thighs. It took a moment longer to figure out what had caused the wound and as he removed the large dildo he had inserted earlier a gush of blood escaped.

"I told you, your toy wouldn't last long," the banshee, Ramona, said as she floated into the room.

"It's not my fault my pet found his box of playthings while I was out of the room," Vance lied as he set the bloodied toy on top of the ruined dress scraps. "Faggot was enjoying every minute of it, look at that smile …" Vance frowned. "Wake him up," he growled.

"He's almost beyond my abilities," the healer hissed, "I wake him before he's healed and you may lose him."

"Wake him," Vance ordered, "he will not part this world with a smile, he will die screaming in anguish when I deem it." Nathaniel's eyes fluttered open and Vance drunk in the absolute look of despair that crossed the pale face. "Was the Light's embrace warm, slut? Present," he growled.

Nathaniel struggled to roll over and it took another long moment for the bloody ass to slowly lift up. "Where is your toy, slut?"

A sob escaped from the prostrating elf and then he collapsed unconscious. Vance nodded to himself. "Better," he said standing. "Heal him; you can leave him to his nightmares when you are done."

That evening from his chair Vance studied the pale form sleeping on the ground. A thick comforter had been wrapped around the elf, so only his head could be seen. Nathaniel's blonde locks spilled out around the porcelain face. It had been touch and go most of the day; it wasn't only the matter of healing. Nathaniel's soul had not wanted to remain in this world. However, a simple soulstone fixed that issue until the body was strong enough to fight for itself against the wishes of its owner. Now soul and body were one and sleeping. Wounds had been healed but the loss of blood would take longer to recover from. Nathaniel once again wore the Sunwell ring, his body too weak to be without it. The eyes of the other fluttered opened to his surprise and the cobalt eyes glanced around anxiously before focusing on him. Devouring the fear in the gaze for a moment, Vance knelt down and ran a hand down the cool cheek of the other.

"Welcome back, pet," he said softly. "You've had a rough day. I didn't expect you to awake yet. I have orders to get some food into you; if you're up to it I have some cooled broth here." The tears started then, cascading down the ashen cheeks. Gently lifting the elf, quilt and all, Vance sat down with Nathaniel on his lap. "Shush," he said as he kissed away the salty tears. "It's okay now." He ran a hand down the corn silk hair as he rocked back and forth. The steady breathing a short time later told him the elf had fallen asleep or unconscious once more. He adjusted himself so he could study Nathaniel's face for a long moment, then he slowly started kissing it. Starting with the temples he kissed his way around the angelic face. After kissing and licking the cheeks of their salty tears he moved to the tempting lips. At first he just planted a couple of chaste kisses and with a deep growl he whispered, "Open." To his pleasure the lips parted, even though he was unconscious his pet strived to please his Master. With a sigh he plunged his tongue into the warm mouth of the elf.

It would have been better to have Nathaniel's tongue dance with his own but he ravaged the mouth hungrily, before biting the bottom lip gently and moving his kisses down the slender neck. His cock screamed to be free of his leggings. With a wicked grin he adjusted the elf so he could reach down and slip the throbbing flesh free of the clothing. Shifting the oblivious man in his arms he made so the elf's bare ass pressed against his cock. The contact of flesh against flesh made Vance moan aloud. He wasn't quite ready violate the elf like he wanted, no he wanted Nathaniel awake and watching when slammed himself into that tight hole of his. But this … he rocked back and forth, his cock sliding between the cheeks of Nathaniel's ass … this would do. He went back to plundering the mouth of the elf as he pleasured himself. He was near his climax when he noticed the first signs Nathaniel was waking. He gripped the blonde hair of the other tightly to prevent him from breaking the kiss. And increased the pace of his rocking, his hardness chafing against the ass of the elf, but he didn't care. Finally the warmth exploded from him and he shudder; never before had he had such a release. He moaned loudly into Nathaniel's mouth as he came and only after the last tremble stopped did he break the touch and sit back.

The lips of the elf were swollen from his treatment, confusion was written all over Nathaniel's face, the slut had no idea what had just happened Vance thought with a smirk. "Oh my beautiful pet," he cooed, "soon … soon I'll teach you such wonderful things. My lessons have all been painful ones thus far; it is time to share some more pleasurable ones. Though for now, we need to build your strength back up." Reaching around the traumatized elf Vance picked up the mug of cooled broth and brought it to Nathaniel's lips. "Open," he said.

The dazed look remained on the elf's face as the mouth remained closed. Holding his annoyance in check Vance kissed the pale temple. "Open," he said again allowing a touch of irritation into his voice.

The elf startled and the lips parted allowing him to pour a spoonful inside. Nathaniel swallowed and a soft sigh escaped, the flavorful broth seemed to agree with his pet. The necromancer kissed the trembling lips. Vance repeated the series of commands until the mug was drained. Setting the cup down he adjusted the elf, his spent cock was still out and the stickiness of his release could be felt between their flesh. "You barely weigh anything," Vance said softly, running a hand down the blanket covered back. "Go back asleep now; recover for your Master so your true servitude can begin."

Nathaniel sobbed in earnest his slender fingers curled into a fist and struck Vance in the chest, there was no force behind the blow. "Kill me," the elf whispered. "Please, I can't do this … take whatever you want for me and end it. You win, Vance, whatever twisted game you are playing. I saw my sister today, Janice; she died during the time of the Culling. She was there, it was warm and safe and you brought me back to this hell. I'm losing my fucking mind …"

Vance held his rage from the insolence spewing from the slut's mouth as he shed the blanket and tossed it on the ground. Taking the now naked elf he twisted him so Nathaniel sat on his lap facing him, his legs on either side of his lap, kneeling on the chair. "Look at me," he commanded. The eyes darted up and focused on a spot over his left shoulder. "Look at me," he growled again.

The sapphire eyes focused on his, the pain reflected there was exquisite, tempering his anger. "Who owns you, slut?"

"You do … Master," the last word was added with a sigh.

"Who decides when and how you will die?" Vance said holding the gaze.

"You … Master," tears cascaded down the pale cheeks.

"That's right," Vance said brushing the tears away with his thumbs as he cupped the elfin face. "And I am not done with you, MY slut, not by a long shot." The necromancer made a show of sighing heavily and rubbing a hand across his face. "I was going to let you sleep in warmth but you've earned my ire." He gestured to the far corner of the room, away from the fire. "That is your bed to recover in, you are dismissed."

He had to give the traumatized elf credit; he managed to make it the indicated corner without falling and sunk to the ground with a sob.

"Sleep or pass out slut," Vance growled as he disrobed. "Whatever you do, shut the fuck up." Nathaniel curled up into a ball in the corner, completely naked there was nothing to protect him from the chill of the room. Vance sighed again. He was supposed to coddle the slut so he would heal but … his fingers curled into fists, the elf still had the audacity to ask for the gift of death. Oh no, there would be no clean death for the slut, only everlasting torment in the form of undeath servitude and only after he had completely shattered the elf beyond reason. And he had no doubt at the current rate of abuse that moment would happen a lot sooner than he would like. Picking up the discarded quilt he walked over to the elf. Nathaniel tensed at his approach. Without saying a word he tossed the heavy comforter over the pale elf and walked back to his own bed. Let the elf's sanity ponder that move for a while, he thought with a small grin as he blew out the bedside lamp leaving only the soft glow from the dying fire.

He awoke to muted sounds that took a moment to register. Opening his eyes slightly he watched as Nathaniel opened the door to the room and glance out into the hall. Just as Vance made ready to jump out of bed the elf shut the door and slid down it to sit at the threshold. Curious, he stayed in bed and watched. A few minutes later the elf's head jerked up and he once again opened the door to claim the food tray that had been set outside. Vance smiled as the tray was brought over to the fire. He watched closely to make sure the slut didn't pilfer any food off the plates. The meal was left untouched as Nathaniel moved to start the fire. Once the flames crackled to life, the elf started to move back to the corner where he had slept.

"Slut," Vance hissed and the elf startled looking over at him alarmed. "What time is it?"

After a quick glance at the clock resting on the desk the whispered answer, "Five, Master," was given.

"That is an entire hour earlier than I want to be awoken," Vance said and fear flickered in the blue eyes of the elf. "However, you did do as I asked and any reprimand is excused. Tomorrow you may claim the meal as it is delivered afterwards you are to remain still until six and then you may start the fire. Afterwards kneel at the chair until I awaken on my own."

"Yes, Master," Nathaniel answered.

Vance studied the naked elf; he could easily count the ribs sticking out from malnutrition torso. There were visible dark circles under his eyes and the face was gaunt. He lifted up the edge of his heavy quilt. "Come here," he ordered. "Lay with me until I rise."

There was a long pause and just when Vance was ready to arise and retrieve the crop for the disobedience Nathaniel walked over and slipped under the blanket lying down next to him. He was rigid with fright. Slipping his arm under the elf he pulled him closer, lying Nathaniel's head on his chest. "Relax, my pet," he purred, "it's just a nap… and I know you're used to sleeping with other men."

To his astonishment the elf did just that; the tension left and with a soft sigh his hand rested on Vance's chest. The steady breathing a few minutes later revealed that Nathaniel had fallen back asleep. The astonished necromancer ran a hand down the back of the sleeping man, what game was the slut playing to go from fearful to calm in a moment? Was it a sign the elf was losing his mind or instead was the slut desperately trying to save his sanity? Appease his tormentor? Vance frowned and studied the angelic face inches from his own. The slut needed taken care of for the sake of his plans and the Deathspeaker of the Lich King did not do nurture. Under his hand the elf would break long before he had played out his plan.

His hand drummed on the pale flesh of the elf as he thought. Mothers were nurturing supposedly, his own had run off when he was a child leaving he and that bitch of a sister with their father to raise. His mood darkened at the thought of Wendy and he had to forcefully still his hand before he woke Nathaniel. At the thought of the elf he looked down at the tempted lips parted in sleep, the memory of their softness still on his own. An idea started to form in his head; it would mean more delays in his plans for the slut. But in the end it also meant his enjoyment extended. He had been too rough with his toy in his haste and pleasure of repaying old debts. It was time to back pedal and approach with gloved hands. He kissed the warm forehead of Nathaniel before he closed his eyes to rest a bit longer. In a couple of hours he could begin the rebuilding of his broken toy, so he could shatter him all over again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven** – _Nathaniel Conway_

Awareness came slowly, the muted sound of slippered feet across the floor, the scent of wood burning in the fire place, the warmth and softness of the bed he slept in. It was as if he was home and when he opened his eyes he would see his mother tending the fire. That was what his heart was hoping; his hunger, soreness and fatigue spoke of the harsh reality. Once he opened his eyes his Master would be waiting, more than likely with a look of dissent on his face for whatever directive he had broken while being unconscious. The longer he laid still the harsher the punishment, after a long moment he sighed and opened his eyes.

A soft canopy of silk hung over the small bed he laid in, Vance's room had no such feature and his breath caught. The covering parted and a familiar but unexpected face peered in. The years had not been kind to the elf looking down at him, her face was gaunt and her eyes haunted, he doubted he looked any better. "Awake, Child?" she said in Thalassian, "your Master has left you in my care until you've recovered."

"Nanny Deni?" Nathaniel whispered, bewildered.

A look of confusion and then recognition crossed her face. "By the Sunwell," the silk was pulled back further so light fell on his face. "He told me …," she lifted the heavy quilt covering him back to reveal a thin cotton gown he had been dressed in at some point when he was unconscious. "What kind of monster … Nahoan, what has become of you?"

With a sob he turned his head away from her. "I'm in hell, ma'am, and my gatekeeper to this prison is my brother. I am a madman's play toy, a man I knew as a child who wants nothing more than to shatter my soul, an act he has come very close in doing. I thought if I appeased him, just maybe I could survive this hell … but there really is no hope is there? Why do I keep fighting it?"

"Because we are Quel'dorei," Deni said as she brushed a hand down his cheek. "We do not know the meaning of surrender. If you have the strength, we should get you sat up in the bed. I have a small pot of soup I've been keeping warm. The dossier I was given for today just had bed rest and a bath should you feel up for it, along with a diet of warm soup, bread and juice."

"I have not been fed more than a scrap of food in so long," Nathaniel whispered. Just then the door across the room opened and he tensed at the sight of Foster standing there.

"Deathspeaker Vance commands you come with me, woman," Foster said in the death haunted voice he now possessed.

A look of fear crossed Deni's face as she nodded. "Of course, Nahoan, please make no attempt to get out of bed until I return. You are very weak and your Master made it very clear you are not to come to harm."

The door closed behind the pair leaving them alone. Nathaniel looked around the room he was in; beyond the bed there was a small sitting area with a low table and a couple of chairs, and a dresser with an oval mirror above it. His heart sunk at the sight of the orb resting on top of the bureau. The same viewing crystal from before, he would never be far from the eyes of his Master.

His fingers worked the cotton material of the gown he wore, a habit he had been unable to break since being forced to wear female clothing. The time passed slowly and just as the first tinges of anxiety of being left alone set in, the door opened and Deni entered. She shut the door behind her and walked over to the dresser keeping her face averted. A strange scent reached Nathaniel's nose and he frowned, it smelled like something burning or had been burnt. Following Deni's motions he saw her pull on a cotton glove on her right hand, there was just a moment the back of her left was shown to him but he could see a blistering brand burnt into the flesh.

"Deni!" He cried sitting up, the world spun and suddenly the other was there in front of him, supporting him. Both hands now gloved. "What …" he started.

"I'm not allowed to touch your flesh with my own," she said calmly as she quickly adjusted the pillows behind him and sat him back so his head and shoulders were supported. "Your Master just made sure it wouldn't be repeated." She pulled the heavy quilt over him tucking it around his waist.

The left hand had been the one she had brushed away his tears with. "He's crazy," Nathaniel sighed closing his eyes. "I'm sorry; you are in this dreadful position because of me."

"If you hadn't needed a caretaker I would be dead now," Deni said as she walked back to the bed with a bowl. "I've been given peculiar orders when it comes to feeding you. Forgive me but he's watching …" Nathaniel nodded. "Open," she said and he parted his lips allowing the soup to be spooned in. "Swallow," she whispered, permitting him to take it from the spoon. He slowly drained the bowl with pauses for bites of bread and sips of juice all hand-fed to him by his old nanny.

"Thank you," he said as she stood and walked over to the viewing crystal tipping the bowl toward it to prove it was empty before sitting it along the other dirty dishes on a tray and then out into the hall.

"Did you eat?" Nathaniel asked. His stomach happy with the amount of food he'd been given, for the first time in a long while.

"Your Master will see to my needs," Deni said as she sat down on a chair near the fire and picked up a book nearby. "He wanted me to … teach you how to be a lady. I have a book that covers etiquette. Forgive me …"

"Just read it," Nathaniel said with a sigh closing his eyes. "I'll do my best for you; you will not get hurt for my follies."

"To be a proper lady one must be polite …"

The full stomach and gentle words had him asleep before the end of the first chapter. He awoke to a darkened room, his body chilled. As he struggled through the veil of sleep it occurred to him that the blanket had been removed and the small cotton gown pulled up to his waist. Nathaniel's heart quickened as his hunter trained nose picked up the scent of musk. His master was here. Fearfully he opened his eyes just a little and through his eye lashes found the man in question sitting beside the bed in a chair. His robe was open, revealing his nude body underneath. The bald-head of the necromancer was thrown back as his right hand jerked in his lap. It took the bewildered elf a long moment to figure out what the man was doing and as he did, comments and moments in his past finally made sense. He was no fool, he knew when the time came a man and woman would lay together to make a child, he had just never wondered about the particulars, assuming when the time came it would just be something he'd know how to do. Vance let out a soft moan as his body jerked, then his hand fell back to his bare leg. His manhood could easily be seen, it was larger than anything Nathaniel had witnessed and due to the bathing rituals of the elves he had seen quite a few, during his time in Silvermoon. His Master sat there for a long moment and as his breathing slowed the elf watched as the harden flesh shrunk, becoming more normal in size.

"_Make yourself hard."_ His Master's old command came back to him. It seems the male body had a secret it hadn't let Nathaniel in on yet. Could his touch really make his do the same?

"Enjoy the show, my pet?"

Nathaniel trembled and remained still. Vance stood and walked over to the bed, his robe still gaping. "Open," he said. With little choice, Nathaniel's lips parted. Two fingers slipped into his mouth, they were covered with dampness. "Lick them clean."

The taste was off-putting and Nathaniel gagged, but did as he was ordered.

"You'll get used to it," Vance said slipping the fingers out and running them down Nathaniel's neck and chest. The human let out a sigh, as he lowered the hem of the sleeping gown to cover the elf. He then lifted the heavy quilt and tucked it around Nathaniel. "Rest, my pet," Vance said, bending down and kissing his cheek. "Next time we meet will be after you are healed. Listen to your Nanny; I pray her training will be no less influential on you, just less soul shattering shall we say?"

With that he walked out of the room and a moment later Deni came inside. Nathaniel rolled over to his side pushing himself up with his hands. His arms trembled at the move. "Please, ma'am, may I have a drink?" He asked in Thalassian

"I'm sorry, Nahoan" Deni replied moving over to the bed and gently pushed him back down. "Your Master said no more food or water until the morning."

Sighing Nathaniel moved his fingers to his lips, he could still taste whatever he'd been force to clean from Vance's fingers. The woman across the room wrinkled her nose and Nathaniel knew the scent she was picking up, his cheeks flushed. She grabbed a nearby candle and with a simple cast the wick flickered to life. As she sat the candle down on the table the door opened and Nathaniel could only cower as Foster stepped inside. Without speaking he walked over to Deni and grabbed her wrist of her right hand and slapped it palm down on the burning candle.

"No!" Nathaniel shouted moving to get out of bed. His legs refused to support him and he felt himself falling. His descent was stopped by a strong arm, and he looked up into the unholy eyes of his brother. For a moment there was a glint of something human in that gaze as he was gently laid back on the bed. As always Foster was dressed in the dark armor of a Knight of the Lich King. An ebony gauntlet fingered the hem of the sleeping gown for a long moment.

"Deathspeaker Vance orders are for his slut to sleep …"

"It smells like a whore house in here," Deni complained.

Foster smiled darkly, "then it is a fitting scent."

Closing his eyes, Nathaniel gripped the sheet of the bed and willed the Death Knight to leave. The man's presence remained and for a brief moment Nathaniel could almost feel the mattress dip as his brother took his once customary place behind him, back-to-back ready to protect the other. "I have your back, Brother," he whispered.

"And I yours …" Foster replied to his shock. His gasp was matched by one from his Brother, followed by a loud shout as he found himself and the bed he was lying on suddenly tipped over in a fit of rage. He slammed into the wall with a cry as the furniture crashed down on top of him. He heard Demi scream followed by the most feral and sinister laugh he had ever heard. "Never again," Foster snarled, "you were a chain around my neck then and even more so now … your Master will have to find another guard dog. If our paths cross again I will cut that sniveling tongue out of your mouth myself!"

The weight of the bed pressed down and all he could do was sob, for a moment his brother had been there, he felt it. There was a sound of the door crashing open. "Get that off him!" Vance all but screeched.

"Do it yourself," Foster retorted coldly.

"Do not make me repeat myself, Death Knight," his Master's voice was a whisper but just as icy as his brother's and enormously more threatening. "You are mine, a gift from the Master if I am done with you, your life is forfeit."

There was a long moment of silence, then the bed was righted with a thud, and the mattress pulled back to reveal the crumbled elf. Vance was beside him, cool fingers tracing his face and running down his body. "Are you injured, pet?"

"No, Master," Nathaniel said, "just shaken."

Strong arms slipped under his back and lifted him like a child. For all the pain he had suffered at the whim of the necromancer he felt safe in the caster's arms and nestled closer willing the thing that had been his brother to leave. The trembling started then and he was helpless to control it. His Master laid him down on the bed and stretched himself out alongside, allowing Nathaniel to continue to cuddle close. The quilt was pulled over him. "Rest, my pet," Vance all but purred, "Your Master will keep you safe, just like I promised."

For a moment he wondered what Deni must think of him, but only for that moment. For this brief second in hell he was protected and as the heavy footfalls of his brother left the room he let out a sigh and gave into the exhaustion that ate away at him, falling asleep in the embrace of a monster.

The weeks that followed were surreal, his brother never made an appearance nor did his Master. Nathaniel's world consisted of the small windowless room he was confined in. It was a velvet prison with plush bedding and all the food and drink he could want. He gained back some of the weight the months of cruelty had taken but Deni kept a close eye on it, saying Vance wanted to keep him slim and easy to manage. Dark words but words he could lock away for now and deal with later.

His days passed in military-like schedule. He was awoken at the same time every morning; he learned to dress himself in female clothing, even mastered the buttons down the back, by buttoning them up for the most part before slipping the dress over his head. Due to his lack of breasts most dresses slid on easily. Afterwards he would serve himself breakfast, to learn the proper ways to pour tea and various other manners. Deni would then feed him the food and drink he had prepared. After the dishes had been cleaned they would spend an hour going over the latest lessons in the book of conduct. Nathaniel had to learn how to sit properly in a dress and how to behave like his Master wanted when alone and with company. After that came the walking exercises, Nathaniel would spend an hour pacing the room with his head held high and various books piles on top to reinforce the command to keep his back straight and his chin up. He knew this would be difficult to maintain one he returned to his Master, the desire to cower was greater there.

Once allowed to sit again, the needlework came out. Nathaniel found out he was very adept at embroidery and he enjoyed the hour spent in quiet while they worked side by side with only gentle advice given occasionally by Deni. Lunch followed and then the most challenging part of the day. "Your Master wants a lady but he also wants a slut," Deni had told him the first day she had brought out a small wicker basket. Inside were various objects, though different in sizes they all had a similar shape. Nathaniel's stomach had clenched at the sight. "It's okay," Deni had whispered, "I just need you to look at them today." The days that had followed went from looking to touching, until he could handle them without fear.

After the wicker basket would come his bath, in full view of the crystal so his Master could watch. He would give himself a sponge bath kneeling in a shallow tub. During this time Deni would leave the room. He had been in his gilded cage for a couple of weeks when she came back into the room and he was in the middle of cleaning his ass like Vance liked. The number five died on his lips, as the soapy rod was halfway inside him. His cheeks burned as he let the soap slide out. "After all this, you still feel shame," she sighed. "Stand up; your Master wants you to play with yourself while he watches."

Nathaniel stood and eyed her uncertain. Deni slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and moved behind him. She took his right hand that was still slick with soap and placed it between his legs. "Here," she said, "just massage your gentile for a bit, see if you can find something that feels good in this hell."

He tried, he truly did but all he felt was humiliated and tears of shame fell down his cheeks. After five minutes his hands were pulled aside so his still flaccid penis could be shown to his Master. "It's okay," Deni said, "you are still young and frightened, what he asks for is impossible but we will continue tomorrow, you may rinse and I will return shortly."

If she was punished for his failure it was done in a way that wasn't noticeable. After his bath and having his hair combed out, came a nap, he was required to sleep only in his panties and uncovered but Deni always made sure there was a fire in the hearth so he was warm. He was on the verge of sleep when he felt her pull the cloth covering his ass aside and something warm pressed against his opening. Her hand massaged his lower back. "Shhh …" she said softly, "it's the smallest, just need to get you used to having your ass played with. I won't leave it in you, today."

Nathaniel tried to do as she asked but as soon as the toy pressed into him he let out a scream as an old nightmare claimed him.


End file.
